


Nothing, as it Should Be

by auselysium



Series: Queer as Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, M/M, Post Epilogue HP, This is not a WIP, non cannon pairing, pre 101 for QAF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auselysium/pseuds/auselysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded in self imposed exile in Pittsburgh, Draco Malfoy is a shadow of his former self.  It takes a chance meeting with Brian Kinney and the sleepless nights that ensue to remind Draco how to live with no excuses and no regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of the Queer As Magic Verse and is NOT a WIP. The story is posted in its entirety on my LJ page. (I go by auselysium there too)
> 
> This crossover takes place in winter 1999 - pre 101 in Queer as Folk and post DH (ignoring the Epilogue) for HP. Originally, this was to be a smaller part of a different HP work, but soon took on a life of its own.
> 
> When I first wrote it, I did not intend for it to be a multi-part story with Brian and Draco being endgame but once I started writing, I fell totally head over heels for this pairing and so I kept going with them. 
> 
> The original ending, which also feels very authentic to me, will also be posted here as Nothing as it Should Be Original Ending. 
> 
> This was originally posted on my LJ back in 2008-2010. Back then it was in 2nd person from Draco's POV. This version has been shifted to 3rd person POV which I think makes the whole Verse more cohesive. Also some edits have been made for content. The original was incredibly explicit and while this still has lots of sex, I've tamed it down. SLIGHTLY. :)

Nothing is as it should be here in the glorious city of Pittsburgh. 

There are things here Draco recognizes – simple things like newspapers and coffee pots.  Except the pictures in the papers are frozen and the coffee pots have to be plugged into little holes in the wall to operate.  Everything is some twisted version of itself.  Just strange enough to make it all seem so wrong. 

Just like him. 

He looks in the mirror and if it were not for his blindingly white blond hair, he might wonder who that was looking back.

“If only Voldemort had won,”  He says to that reflection, who when he mouths the words, mouths them back.   _So it really is me_.   

He does not say it wistfully or with any wish that The Dark Lord should have won.  In all reality, he is glad Potter was victorious.  He says it instead, with wonder.  With a breath of nostalgia over how different his life could have been. 

His father would still have his soul inside his body.  His mother would not be slowly dying from her grief.  His family name would not be defiled, cursed in the public eye as murderers and bigots.  That same public would not be calling for his head on a silver plate simply because of the hideous mark on his arm, agreed to by a frightened child in a moment of panic to save a family that was already destroyed. 

 _That was not so long ago_ , he thinks.  Not believing that the child he once was and the man that stares back at him now, could be one and the same.      

If Voldemort had won, then he would not be here, running, hiding.  Surrounded by large-waisted muggles, with their flat, Yankee accents.  Living in a small apartment in a city so void of magic sometimes his muscles ache from its absence. He is filled up with remorse and regret.  But worse than all that, he is filled with so many questions about the home he left behind.  Questions that have no way of being answered. 

It is a cold night in Pittsburgh and the snow is fierce but Draco has had enough. 

He is sick of going to sleep alone every night, wrapping himself up in his loneliness and solitude.  Those two having been his only bedfellows these long, desolate months. 

He needs a good stiff drink and a good hard fuck. 

The snow is swirling like mad, screaming past his ears.  The hard, bitter flakes pelt his skin and leave it red and raw. His Hogwarts scarf is worn and faded, but he pulls it closer around his face hoping to stave off some of nature’s assault. 

Lake effect snow, the natives call it.   _Must be one bitch of a lake_ , he thinks. 

He turns a corner and can barely make out the lights of several buildings along the block through the flakes, but he stumbles up the stairs and is greeted by warm, slightly humid air and lively music. 

 _Finally an inviting place_.  His back straightens, letting the warmth surround him.  He sees the colorful, bright lights, brighter people.  Laughter and rainbows. 

Draco freezes.   _Rainbows._   _A gay bar, then_. 

Fine.  Anything will work tonight. 

Pleasure over principle: that is the pureblood way.  Woman or man, he's never much cared. And tonight he cares even less.  So he shrugs off his jacket and takes a seat at the bar.   

His first reaction is to order a firewhiskey. But of course his lips haven’t tasted that in over a year and this barkeep would have no clue as to what that it is anyway. 

He catches himself and simply says, “Scotch.  Straight up.  No ice.” 

The man eyes him suspiciously, “You got ID?” 

 _Fuck these stupid American laws_.  He's 19.  It’s not like he isn’t willing to pay for the drink but he's not legal either.  The bartender’s eyes glaze over as Draco waves his hand nondescriptly at him.  He mumbles something like, “Never mind.  Scotch, no ice.” and toddles off to get his drink. 

Draco smirks, feeling that old rush of magic.  There has been plenty of time in the past year for Draco to hone his wandless magic, even if he rarely used it.  He knows using an unforgivable is illegal, especially on a muggle but he hasn’t seen an Auror since his trial and who is going to catch him here anyway? 

The bartender brings his drink and he downs it, immediately asking for another. 

The bar is not crowded, due to the snow, but Draco feels eyes on him from all sides.  He lets them look.  A familiar feeling bubbles up inside him.  Even if he's a shadow of what he once was, he's still something these men have never seen.  Pureblooded, well-bred and positively thrumming with allure. 

It’s only after his third drink that Draco sees him.  This man watches too, but he is not like the others. 

Across the bar from him, he sits.  Leather coat still on, as if he cannot be bothered to stay here long.  His shoulders are rounded over his pint glass, his smoldering hazel eyes piercing the ice gray of Draco's. 

He is as unafraid as Draco is willing.   

He hunts him.  And Draco likes it.  Each look is an attempt to decipher just how deep Draco would take his cock, either down his throat or up his ass.  The man does not smile, but lets his lips curve up just enough to let Draco know he’s figured him out.  _You’d take all of it, wouldn’t you?_   He seems to say. 

The man drops his eyes to his glass and drinks heavily from it.  His Adams apple bobbing as he swallows.  

 _How long has it been since you’ve been with a man?_   He asks himself.   _With anyone?_   There were those half-hearted fumblings with Pansy in sixth year and the one-offs with Zabini in the shower room during seventh.  But do those even count?   
  
Of course there was the one night, late in the war, when he had gone down into the potions lab, desperate to find some peace and quiet from the world outside only to find his mentor there, looking for the same thing.  He had looked at Draco with those desperate, dark eyes and some connection had been forged.  He had given himself to Draco, allowing - for one, fleeting night – for teacher to become lover.  
  
But he was gone now too.   

“Hey.”  Draco hears breathlessly near his ear.  He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the man move next to him.  He is sitting far too close to be casual. 

“Hello.”  Draco replies.  His voice sounds strange in his head.  He don’t speak often unless it is to bark out “Non-fat, grande Chai” or “Half caff, no whip latte” during the morning rush.    

He offers to buy Draco another drink and he accepts it gladly, unsure if he even has enough money to cover the first three. 

“I haven’t seen you before.”  The man says, as if that fact offends him. 

“I’m rather new to the area.” 

His eyes widen as he speaks.  “English, huh?”  He says.  Draco nods.  “How long have you been in the States?” 

“Long enough.”   

He snorts.  “Not much of a fan of Pittsburgh?” 

“You could say I’m just not used to the local culture.” 

“Well, good.  That's two things we have in common then.” 

“Oh?  What could you and I possibly have in common?”   

He stares at Draco hard, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. 

“We both want to fuck tonight.”  His voice is so low and slow Draco can feel it rumble in his chest.     

Draco feels his skin flush, unprepared for his brazenness.    

“Am I wrong?”  He asks, though he knows he isn’t.  Draco shakes his head 'no' and the man gives him a glimpse of  his tongue as he wets his lower lip.  He jerks his head towards the door and Draco gets the idea.  As he puts his hand on the small of Draco's back to lead him outside, he says, “I’m Draco by the way.”   
  
He looks at him, their heights so similar that his eyes automatically meet Draco's and says, "Brian."

*

The roads are terrible, as the snow hasn’t stopped, but his Jeep handles them nicely.  And besides, it is a short drive.  No more than five minutes and he stops in front of a three storied building and shuts the car off. 

The elevator ride, just like the car ride, is silent.  But full of anticipation.   

His home mirrors him.  Beautiful and seductive, but spare, with no bullshit.  No need for a throw pillow or a framed picture of a loved one.  Such trifles are for those who have other things on their mind besides the bottom line.   

He takes off his jacket to reveal a black, sleeveless button down shirt and two perfectly sculpted biceps.  If this is what his upper body looks like Draco can only imagine what the rest of him will.  

“You want something to drink?”  He interrupts Draco's musings with niceties that neither of them really want.  Or need.   

So instead of answering Draco drops his coat over the back of the white, leather couch and begins unbuttoning his shirt. 

A surprised look passes over his face, but Draco can see he is pleased, amused to see a move out of his own bag of tricks.  He leans back against the counter to watch as Draco lifts his thin tee shirt off over his head.  Draco can tell by the glint in his eye that he likes what he sees.  When Draco reaches for the fly of his jeans Brian is next to him in a heartbeat.  In sleek and practiced movements, he bats Draco's hands away and takes over, regaining the control, which he so obviously likes.   

Draco's belt is quickly removed and the button of his fly is unfastened.  He unzips Draco's pants slowly – making every tine of the zipper beg to be undone. His other hand holds Draco's hip, keeping him from swaying.  He seems to know Draco is feeling unsteady even before he does. 

Brian's fingers graze the soft, sensitive flesh just below Draco's belly button and he gasps.  Brian chuckles gently at his reaction and stands even closer.  Draco can feel the heat coming off Brian's body, smell his cologne sprayed on his chest and the beer of his breath. 

Then Draco feels his hand dive under the band of his boxers and wrap around his cock.  His hand is amazingly warm considering the temperature outside, but there is not time between when Draco notices this and when his mind goes blank, as he beings stroking.   

Draco clutches at his shoulders, gasping as his adept fingers stroke him faster and faster.  Draco clenches his eyes shut, as if opening them would let some of this exquisite pleasure he is bringing escape his body.   

 _Does he know?_    _Does he know how desperately I need this?_  

If Draco's eyes had been open, he would have seen the look of pure wonder on Brian's face.  His mouth open and his eyes watching Draco's every reaction.  Each whimper and gasp from Draco's lips feeds his fire.  Turns him on. 

Soon Draco's whimpers turn into small cries, echoing into the hollow of Brian's neck, where his head now rests.  Brian's own gasps fortify him, encourage him to let go.  Draco's cock begins to twitch in Brian's hand and he speeds up his strokes.   

Draco can feel the heat in his balls becoming unbearable and he knows he is a heartbeat away from oblivion.  Brian knows it too.   

As soon as the barrier breaks, Draco cries out, but the sound never gets past his lips.  At that very moment, Brian plunders his mouth with his, capturing his sob and his tongue all at once.  Brian's tongue delves deep inside, flooding his mouth with the hot, sweet taste of him. 

Draco comes for ages, harder than he has in months.  Brian slows, his grip relaxing as he lets Draco ride it out, but his mouth stays on Draco's, slipping and sucking and twirling around his lips.  Draco can’t remember the last time someone kissed him like that - the last time someone  _kissed_  him. 

When Brian finally pulls his hand away and then his mouth, he is as breathless as Draco is.  “Looks like you needed that,” He says.  He leaves Draco standing there, half naked and panting, to walk into the kitchen for a towel. 

“It’s just been a long time.”  Draco wipes at some of the cum still stuck to his abdomen and then abandons it, assuming there will be more to clean up before the night is over. 

“How long is long?”  Brian asks, as he starts turning off lights, leaving a strange blue glow coming from the place Draco can only assume is the bedroom. 

“Long enough,”  Draco replies, smiling weakly as they both realize they've had a version of this conversation before.  

“Not a man of many words are you?”   

“Neither are you, so I don’t see why this is a problem.”   

“It’s not a problem, just a pity cause that accent of yours is damn hot.”  Brian smiles when Draco blushes.   “But you’re right.  It suits me just fine.”  He shuts off the final light in the living area, a floor lamp over by the large windows that look out onto the city skyline.  “Still snowing,” he says then turns to Draco.  “Looks like we’ve got all night.”


	2. Chapter 2

Brian goes into the bathroom and comes out moments later, completely naked.  His body is even better than Draco had imagined. Toned abs and strong thighs.  His cock hanging half hard, long and heavy from underneath trim brown curls.   _Why was it I ever slept with women?_  he wonders.   

Draco's pale skin is in stark contrast to the dark blue sheets of Brian's bed.  The blue tubular lights over the bed make him feel even paler.   _Like a ghost. Or a vision,_ Draco thinks, hoping it is the latter. 

Brian lies down next to Draco, his leg draping over Draco's thigh.  Brian kisses him again, this time with purpose: to get Draco hard, to get him ready for the long night of fucking that he has promised.  And now that Draco's seen him, he has no doubt Brian will be able to deliver. 

It does not take long for Draco to feel Brian's dick harden against his thigh and for his hips to begin unconsciously stirring and rutting against him as Draco turns to face him.  Brian's kisses mesmerize him.  He feels the curve of Brian's lips, the faint stubble on his chin.  Draco lifts his hand and runs his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Brian's neck, angling his head to thrust his tongue in even deeper.   

They battle for a moment, wagging a war with tongues and lips.  Neither man wanting to be the first to submit.  Brian moans, a sound coming from back of his throat and Draco knows, that at least for a moment, he has won.  He pushes himself up onto his forearms, planting one hand firmly on Brian's chest before flipping him onto his back. 

 _That was too easy_ , Draco thinks.   _He let me win._  

Draco straddles Brian's thighs.  Brian lifts his head slightly of the pillow so he can watch Draco's blond head sweep lower and lower, covering every inch of that perfect torso with his lips. 

It is not long until Brian's body writhes underneath Draco.  His hips rising off the bed in hopes of meeting some resistance.  Draco recognizes that need to be touched, to be tasted.  His body begging to be fondled or fucked – anything - to satisfy the ache inside that rides the line between torture and rapture. 

Draco nuzzles his face against Brian's hip, his tongue tracing the delicate crease of skin where thigh meets body.  Draco breathes deeply, taking in the heady scent of him.  Salt and sex, mixed with the smell of Draco's own spit that has dried on his skin.  It spins his brain and wracks his body.   

Draco knows what Brian wants and what his body needs.  But can he give that to him?   _There was only that once with Blaise…and we’d been sixteen. Christ anything would have felt good then._    

 “You need a map down there?”  Brian gripes, showing signs of his growing frustration.   

But it does not take long for his question to be answered as Draco steadies himself, then swallows Brian down.  He’s bigger than Blaise and ten times more beautiful, so Draco goes to it with ten times the effort as he had then. 

The pungent smells that had filled Draco's senses before now overwhelm his taste buds and saliva fills his mouth.  It spills out, lubricating both the slip of his lips and slide of his hand. 

Brian reacts graciously.  His well timed sighs, catching in his throat before finally coming to fruition as grunts and moans. Draco swallow more of him, remembering to cover his teeth, letting the suction hollow his cheeks.  Draco doesn’t know if he can take all of him in, but he tries anyway.   

Draco bobs his head faster and faster, deeper, sucking all of him down.  Brian arches his back off the bed, his cries becoming higher pitched and frenzied.  Once Brian collapses back against the sheets, Draco's mouth is soon full. He savors the taste, swallowing deeply, lapping and licking it off of Brian too, careful not miss one drop. 

With gentle fingers, Brian leads Draco up towards his face where he kisses Draco's over abused mouth. Gently caressing his face with the tips of his fingers, letting his tongue be the salve Draco needs to calm his swollen lips. 

Brian pulls away and gives a look Draco can’t quite understand.  Draco hasn’t yet perfected wandless Occlumency, so he doesn’t dare try.  His eyes, which had seemed so bright and golden at the bar, now appear dark, sated, yet curious. 

Brian offers him a cigarette, which he accepts.  He lights his then hands the lighter to Draco.  They lie back against the sheets and smoke in the quiet solitude of their own thoughts. 

“I’m glad to see they teach you to swallow over there.”  His voice is gravelly, either from the smoke or from the cries Draco had rendered from him, he's not quite sure which.  

Draco smirks gently.  “Of course.  I do come from proper society after all.  I’m no mudblo…plebian,” He corrects himself, quickly. 

“Yes, well with that accent you can’t help but sound bourgeois can you?  You the son of some duke or duchess?”  He jokes.   

“Not quite," Draco says quite seriously.  "My father is -”  he falters.  “My father  _was_  very wealthy and influential.  He held a very important position in the government.  Our family owned a manor home in Wiltshire, England.” 

Thankfully, Brian ignores the past tense with which Draco speaks and he snorts, then asks, “Did you have a butler?” 

“I suppose.”  Draco isn't not sure if the scores of house elves at the manor count.  “We had help with the cooking and cleaning, keeping up grounds, though my mother always tended the gardens.”  Draco stops again, feeling a crushing feeling in his chest he did not anticipate at the mention of his mother.  He sucks on the end of his cigarette and hopes that Brian doesn't see the glint of tears in his eyes. 

“And you?”  He asks once he has finally blinked back the tears.  “You must come from money to afford a place like this.” 

“Hardly," Brian protests. "Growing up the only people to get yelled at for not completing their chores were me and my sister.  This."  He gestures to the air around him.  "All of this is mine.  I made my own way.  My own money.” 

“Perhaps it is better that way,”  Draco says thoughtfully.

“You're damn right it is.” 

Brian exhales slowly, the smoke from his cigarette swirling randomly in the air above the two of them.  He turns his head to watch Draco, captivated.   

“I’ve never fucked a member of the aristocracy.”   

“You haven’t fucked me yet,”  Draco replies coyly.   
  
Brian's brow furrows.  "How true."  He puts out his cigarette then takes Draco's from between his lips and does the same.  Draco sees the smallest flash of a mischievous grin before he hears, "Roll over," whispered in his ear.

 

*

 

Draco obeys his order readily, his body vibrating with anticipation as he moves to his stomach, resting his head in the cradle of his arms.   

Draco feels Brian move over him, his legs tangling with his.  He kisses Draco's neck, his tongue licking at the taunt tendons that stretch under his skin.  Draco's body absorbs Brian's weight and instead of feeling crushed, he simply feels heavier, sinking into the soft bed below deeper and deeper until there is little more than Brian above and his throbbing cock below. 

Brian's hands seem to be every where, stroking the inside of his thigh, kneading into the knots in his back, swirling through the soft tendrils of Draco's hair.  His fingernails trail down his rib cage, leaving goose bumps in their wake.  His thumbs gently part Draco's ass cheeks and he feels the cool night air of the loft ghost over the seldom exposed skin. 

It is only then that that Draco tenses, his head snapping up off the pillow to stare at Brian, wide eyed. 

“Let me guess…” Brian snickers.  “It’s been a while.” 

“I see you’re catching on,”  Draco mumbles letting his head drift back to the pillow. 

Brian lies down next to Draco, spreading his long body against him. 

He tucks a strand of hair behind Draco's ear so he can better hear Brian's hushed words.   “How is it that this ass hasn’t been fucked on a regular basis?”  His voice is soft and satiny and Draco shudders to hear it.   His large palm slowly moves from the skin between Draco's shoulder blades to the softer flesh of his ass.   

“It’s a travesty someone hasn’t been taking care of you.”  His hand cups the curve of one cheek, where it is most plump and round.  “But I will.  You’re gonna fucking love it.”

Draco hears the unspoken  _And so will I_ and all remaining hesitation melts away _._    

Perhaps though, the hesitation is simply replaced by intense desire. Draco's body remembers the pain and the pleasure, the confusion and closeness he had felt when he had been fucked the once before.  The utter surrender he had given to that dark, broken man, whose hands had trembled as much as Draco's had.  Draco had known how wrong it was to want him, to seek that moment of solace in, not only a man old enough to be Draco's father, but one who was his teacher, his adviser.  A man who had tried at every turn to do the right thing, to answer to so many but never to himself only to be ruined, in the end, by his humanity.   

With the backdrop of the war hanging behind them, it had been a moment of tenderness amidst madness.  And Draco hoped it had been for him as well. He had shown such control and gentleness with that Draco's first time, that he had given their fleeting tryst some semblance of affection.   _He did not deserve to die_ , Draco thinks but quickly forces those thoughts away. 

He focuses on Brian, forecasting the bliss he knows he will feel under his touch.  Being covered by his experienced body, full of his perfect cock, it is a wish and a need all at once. 

The lube and a condom are retrieved with practiced proficiency.  Draco thinks for a brief moment that he could simply cast a lubrication spell with its own prophylactic effects, but he can tell Brian is too savvy to fuck raw. He clearly does this enough to know how to be safe. 

He goes onto his knees between Draco's legs.  “Relax,” He whispers again.  

The first swirl of a finger around Draco's entrance makes his breath catch somewhere in his chest, half way between a gasp and a sob.  Brian smiles and Draco wishes he could see it.   

He presses gently inside, with steady pressure and there is that distinct burn of penetration.  Draco is so tight that even Brian winces.  “Fuck…” Draco manages as a second finger joins the first.

“Ok?”  Brian asks, his hand pausing its delicate movement. 

Draco nods and pushes back against him just to prove how ok he is. 

“You are going to feel so god dammed good around my cock,"  He growls.  Draco moans back as his fingers pushes into him again.  Twisting and turning, preparing his way.  Draco feels the skin stretch, become softer and more responsive with each passing breach.  The more Brian fingers him, the more Draco wants him to.  Three fingers soon become too insignificant and Draco needs the fullness only Brian's cock can offer. 

Draco realizes he has been simpering pathetically as he pushes back against his hand.  This is not behavior becoming of a Malfoy or of a man in general, but Brian seems to be eating it up so Draco does not stop. 

“You want it, Draco?  You want me to fuck you?”  His fingers still, his body is on top of Draco.  He can feel every blessed inch of his skin, his hand grasping Draco's wrist, pressing it into the mattress, his own hardness ready for its prize.   

“Yes…”  Draco moans and hopes Brian will soon put an end to this wretched anticipation. 

 “Say it,”  Brian breathes barely loud enough to hear over Draco's own ragged breath. 

“Fuck me.”  

Draco does not recognize the voice that says the words.  It is crude and needy, snarled between clenched teach and curled lip but it feels right to say it and to mean it. 

The condom is ripped open before Draco's heart has a chance to beat again.  Draco feels the head of Brian's sheathed cock rest at his entrance and he arches up in eagerness.   

He slides into Draco incrementally, giving him only a centimeter at a time with such control Draco can hardly comprehend it.  Once he is fully encased, he pulls out just as slowly. Then like a spike being driven into the ground, he pounds back in.  Draco cries out.  It is all too much. The burn and the rush.  Brian's heavy sighs. 

And yet, so not nearly enough. 

Brian is not frantic or riled up.  In fact, each movement is perfectly paced and thoughtful.  Brian is artful in his fucking, much as Draco had expected.  Leading both of them towards a mind-numbing conclusion.   

Once he starts hitting Draco's prostate with each sweep, there is no turning back.  Once, twice, three times and the world goes black.  Draco's throat grinds out a guttural moan.  Brian chokes out a victorious roar and they collapse in a pile of sweat and bones together. 

“Fuck," Draco pants as he slides away and rolls onto his back.

“Again already?”  Brian says with a laugh on his lips.  There is the snap of latex as the filled condom is removed and he grabs a conveniently placed towel for Draco.  Draco cleans himself up then Brian stretches his well-honed body languidly beside him. While the sex has drained Draco, it has rejuvenated Brian. 

Something catches Brian's eye and he reaches for Draco's wrist, turning it palm side up.   _The mark._   They both look at the skull and snake that takes up nearly the entire length of Draco's forearm.  It is long since still and pain free now that its caster is dead and gone.  But this is not ink embedded between the layers of Draco's epidermis.  It is a spell bound to his flesh, his bones, his thoughts and his soul.  Even if one were to cut the skin away the Dark Mark would remain inside him.   _Marked inside and out._  They don’t tell you that until it is too late. 

“Such a dark tattoo for such a pretty boy.”  Brian says, trailing a finger down the length of the snake.  Draco can’t help but snicker at his choice of words.   _If only you knew._  

“It was something I was pressured into when I was young.  A mistake,”  Draco offers, hoping it is vague enough to explain it away. 

“Do you regret it?” 

“Don’t people usually regret mistakes?” 

“Only if you continue to wonder how things might have been different if you didn’t make it.  There is no way of ever knowing what might have been so why bother troubling yourself with the possibilities?” 

“Because things could be different.” 

“But they aren’t,”  Brian says quickly.  “No use living in the past when you can’t change it.”  He turns and smirks at you.  “No regrets, Draco.”  

Draco nods sagely, getting a distinct feeling Brian has said those words before and wonders again how Brian seems to be saying exactly what he needs to hear.   

“Are you always this philosophical after sex?”  Draco asks.  
  
Brian laughs and slaps his thigh, connecting with a good, solid smack, before getting out of the bed and heading for the shower.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual drug use in this chapter.

Brian showers alone.  Then lets Draco do the same giving him a big, fluffy, albeit red, towel to wrap around his waist. 

After he is clean and dry, Draco pads out to the living area to see Brian framed by the industrial window on the far side of the room.  The snow is still falling with abandon.  The sky glows an eerie yellowish purple, the color of a week old bruise, as the white flakes reflect the city lights back up to the clouds.  The cars parked on the street are buried, nothing more than mounds of white.  The streets themselves are inches and inches below the snow.  Nothing stirs outside.  It is a peaceful world. 

“It’s quite the storm,”  Draco says casually as he moves to stand next to him.  Brian offers up a drag of his cigarette, which Draco is about to decline until he notices the smell.   

It is thicker yet less suffocating than tobacco.  It smells more of nature and earth and Draco realizes quickly it is that Muggle drug people at work are always talking about.  So Draco takes the rolled piece of paper gently between his fingers and inhales deeply.  Brian watches, impressed when he doesn’t even cough.  It is not the first time this evening that Brian has been impressed by him. 

Almost immediately, the drug does its own form of magic.  Curling up into Draco's head and under his skin.  Making everything clearer and fuzzier all at once. 

“I didn’t realize it was supposed to be this bad,”  He says, gesturing to the weather outside then taking another drag himself. 

“We had snow like this at school growing up.  It wouldn’t stop for days and by the time we were finally allowed to venture back outside the snow would be up to our waists it was so deep.” 

“Where did you go to school?  Wait, let me guess, some prestigious boarding school.  Winchester? Eaton perhaps?”   
  
“I’m certain you’ve not heard of it. It’s a rather small place in Scotland.  Very…out of the way.”   

“Are you in college here?” 

“No.  I actually never even finished school.” 

“Why not?” 

“My school was…” O _bliterated by a war in which I was on the wrong side_. “Closed before I could finish.  I hope some day to be able to go back.”  Brian nods and hands the remainder of the joint back to Draco to finish.  “And you?"  Draco says, shifting the attention off himself.  "Where did you study to amass your enormous, independent wealth?”

“I wouldn’t call it enormous, I…” 

“Oh, I would,”  Draco says seductively and his eyes drift down to where he can see the faintest trace of Brian's dick under his low-slung towel.  Draco makes sure Brian catches the glance and instantly the other man's eyes become darker.  Draco is suddenly overwhelmed by the need to touch that bulge, to feel it harden beneath the slightly damp terry cloth. 

Draco steps behind him, letting his fingertips trail up one arm, over his shoulders and down the other side.  Brian's skin is still warm from the shower and soft from his soap.  He watches Draco's movements, dragging his lower lip between his teeth as he does.  Draco presses himself against his back, one hand slipping around to his chest,  the other drifting to his groin, pulling Brian back against him.  Brian leans into the touch and lets his head drop back, exposing his long neck. 

“You were saying something about your wealth?” Draco mumbles right before he beings sucking on the skin near Brian collar.  Brian expels a breath, a surprised and playful sound. 

“I was saying it isn’t enormous.  Large, but not enormous.  At least not yet.”   

Draco's fingers find where the towel is tucked into itself and he frees the end,  letting the towel drop to the ground.  Draco reaches his hand down to cup Brian's still soft penis, cradling both it and his balls gingerly in his hand. 

“Mmm…But it will be.  Enormous.”  Draco whispers as he begins to play with and manipulate Brian.  

“I think you’re right," Brian laughs deep in his chest.   

As if on cue, the blood begins to pool in Brian's groin under Draco's touch.  As soon as his cock has enough of a spine to its length, Draco beings to run his hand slowly from the base to head.  Giving a twist of the wrist at the very last minute, which makes Brian's breath catch. 

“And I believe I asked you about school.” 

“You’re serious?”  He pants.  “Now?” 

“Very serious,”  Draco says, giving an especially hearty stroke and a firm bite to his shoulder.  Both of these together evoke another delectable reaction from Brian. 

Wherever this confidence is coming from, Draco does not know and does not care.  It feels refreshing and reaffirming.  It feels…faintly familiar. 

“Well,” He swallows.  “Penn…State for undergrad.”  He falters as Draco's pace quickens.  He hides grin against Brian's neck.  One might even say, he smirks. 

“And…” 

“Carnegie Mel..Mellon.  For my…MBA.  Jesus.”  Brian pants, letting his head fall forward. 

Now, for someone who has already gotten off twice, a simple hand job is not going to be enough.  Soon Brian’s hands move from where he had been bracing himself against the window frame to reach behind and pull off Draco's own towel. 

Before Draco even knows what is happening, Brian grabs the hand on his cock, plants another hand on Draco's hip and spins him around, making Draco the one standing in front of the window, legs spread, hands splayed on the cool window ledge, on display to the world.    

Luckily a condom never seems to be more than a stones throw away from Brian.  This time it, and some lube, emerge from a glossy Asian box on the side table next to the sofa. 

Draco is still stretched from the previous round so the foreplay is less involved this time.   Instead, Brian sheathes himself and slicks himself, rubbing any left over lube between his arse cheeks hastily.  Draco likes it like this too.  Being  taken, without being coddled or asked. 

This time Brian is frantic.  He pounds and Draco groans, a perfect symbiotic system.  He reaches around and starts to jerk Draco off, the rhythm of his strokes mimicking the rhythm of his fucking. 

“Open your eyes, Draco,”  He orders.  “Look at the snow.” 

Draco opens his eyes, but it is not the storm he sees.  Draco cannot see past the reflection in the window.  The breathtaking image of him and Brian moving together: their angular bodies pressed against one another, his milky white skin cradled in Brian's olive limbs.  Draco's hair falls forward over his eyes and Brian's brow furrows deeper with every thrust. It is the very description of passion.  A pornographic painting of masculinity.   

Brian is not watching the soft flakes either. 

His golden eyes watch Draco with a dangerous stare.  They watch Draco watching him and this image they have created together.  His eyes drip with hunger and lust.  Draco holds his eyes with his in the glass.  It is almost more intimate than if you were face to face because he cannot look away.  Draco cannot close his eyes to this magnificent sight. He wouldn’t dare.   

Brian's eyes seem to penetrate Draco with an Occlumens like severity.  Only he has no magic to see what is in Draco's mind, only these unyielding eyes.  It is as if they truly seeDraco and see things Brian cannot comprehend.  But how could he? 

“Fuck, we’re beautiful,”  He sobs.   

Draco comes.  Brian throws his head back, his eyes finally releasing Draco from his arresting gaze and he comes too.  Riding out every last wave of his orgasm deep inside Draco.  He only slips out after his cock begins to go soft. 

Draco's head hangs, breathless, feeling as if Brian has just reached inside for his soul, pulled it out, shown it off for the world to scrutinize, only to shove it back inside him torn to pieces.  Brian's head rests between Draco's shoulders, panting, eyes closed in silent shock.  His arms are still around Draco.  His hand resting over his galloping heart.  His silence showing how exposed he is feeling too.

This was not how things were supposed to be between them.  Draco had wanted a good hard fuck, but neither of them had expected ...whatever the hell that was.   

“Brian…” Draco says carefully.  His voice is deep and steady and he thanks Merlin for that.  “If you want me to go…”   

Brian's head snaps up, once more capturing Draco's eyes in the window’s reflection.     

“You’re staying here.”

 

*

 

Brian's words hang in the air and Draco's heart leaps.  Because as flayed open as he is feeling, as bewildered as he is about the emotions he saw in Brian's eyes, he really doesn't want to leave.  For the first time since he left home, and perhaps even before then, he wants something.  He wants _this_ – being with Brian, being fucked by him, talking with him.  He makes Draco feel good and makes him think, taking away some of the loneliness to which he had become so accustomed in the process.                       

It is hard for Draco to remember some days that he did not die the day he was acquitted by the Wizengammot thanks to Potter’s testimony.  He was not being punished by living here in Pittsburgh.  It had been his choice to leave England.  Yet, it seems only Brian has helped him remember. 

 _I still breathe.  I still feel.  I want to stay._  

“The roads are for shit,"  Brian snaps picking up the towels and hastily retreating to the bathroom.   "I’m not risking my neck to drive you home.”  

His voice is cold, so very different from the one, which only moments before had rhapsodized their coupling.   

Draco watches as Brian brings fingers to his head, rubbing at the confusion that spins inside it.  He understands Brian's statement for what it was:  A way to regain control, to realign reality.  Brian had needed to say it because for a split second he had wanted Draco to stay, not because the roads are icy and snow covered, but because he needed it too. 

And that, more than anything else in the world, scares him.  

Brian comes back out of the bathroom wearing a satin navy blue robe.  “Here,”  He says shortly and throws a pair of gray jersey pajama bottoms at Draco.  He slides them over his narrow hips then joins Brian in the kitchen. 

“You hungry?”  He asks, standing in front of the refrigerator, the light from the open door spilling out into the darkness of the loft.  

“A little,”  Draco admits. Brian nods at his answer and starts making some sort of sandwich. 

“I usually don’t eat this late, but…well I’ve been getting my exercise, haven't I?”  He gives Draco a knowing look, which they share conspiratorially.  “That was hot,”  Brian says, his eyes flitting towards the window with a butter knife.  Draco looks back over his shoulder and can almost still see the two of them burned into the windowpane.  

“I certainly hope we were the only ones to enjoy the view.”   

A devilish grin envelops Brian's face.  “I certainly hope we weren’t.  Pity to waste it on just the two of us.”  He sets a plate down in front of Draco and tears into his own sandwich.  As an after thought, he goes to the refrigerator to retrieve two beers. 

“So,” he asks, swallowing down his bite of sandwich with a slug of beer, “If you didn’t come here for school, did you come for work?” 

A snide look lengthens Draco's face.  “I work at the Starbucks on 6th.  Not exactly a job worth crossing the ocean for.” 

Brian nods.  He seems used to Draco's obtuse, non-answers at this point.   

“So you could have gone anywhere?”   

Draco shrugs.  “I suppose.” 

“Then why in all God’s green earth did you choose Pittsburgh?  You could be gallivanting around New York or sunning yourself in LA?” 

Draco stops to think of how best to answer.   

All of this - his flight from England – had been a rash decision.  The day after his father received the Kiss, there had been an editorial in the  _Prophet_ , discussing the leniency of the Ministry when it came to certain marked Death Eaters who were not serving time because a certain Dark Lord vanquisher had spoken on their behalf.   

There had been no doubt the writer was referring to no one else other than Draco.   

His mother, half mad in her own grief, had panicked.  She was convinced it was no longer safe for Draco to stay in England.  That rogue Aurors would hunt him down or a vengeful half blood would attack him while he shopping in Diagon Alley.    
  
Draco did not feel the same fear, but she would not see reason.  He obeyed her wishes simply to help from slipping even further into insanity. 

New York had been out from the beginning with far too many wizards roaming the streets, even in the non-magical part of the city.And L.A.?  Well the truth for not going there had been much more practical: Draco's skin wouldn’t have lasted a second with all the sun. 

So Draco had decided on coming here.  Uninteresting, unsuspecting, un-magical Pittsburgh.  All the things he was looking for in a good hiding place.  He had forged some muggle documents, packed his trunk and was gone before the evening  _Prophet_ was even delivered.  In the end, he suppose the columnist won. 

“First off, I do not gallivant.”  Draco says, finally answering Brian's question. “New York is too busy and LA has all the smog.  I’m quite the delicate creature really,”  He says touching his bare chest gently. 

Brian laughs in earnest, enjoying Draco's sarcasm.    

“Ok, so if not for school and not for work…what then?” 

“I told you, my school was closed and I had nothing better to do….” 

“Bullshit.  A man who grew up on an estate with servants had nothing better to do?  The son of two highly influential parents and you end up serving coffee in Pittsburgh?  What’s the real reason?” 

Draco looks at him for a moment before he remembers:  _He saw you._   Back there against the window.  Draco doesn’t know how, but Brian had been reading Draco like an open book while he fucked him.  Brian might not have understood what he saw, but he knows enough to know there is much Draco is hiding. 

“My family...”  Draco sighs, unsure how on Earth he is going to manage explaining this.  “My family, historically, has been very powerful in our society.  Influential politically and socially.  You name it; we’ve had a hand in it.  But recently, my father chose rather poorly with whom we associated ourselves.  And now, well now, we’re nothing.  My father is…as good as dead.  My mother…my mother…” Draco can’t bring himself to finish.  He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes close against that painful last image he has of her as he aparatted into the night and tries to remember her at better times.   _The rose garden, in the summer, her gossamer robes swept up by the wind._  

“Our name is mud at this point.  Worse than mud.  Despised to the point where anyone bearing my father’s name might be in danger.  So I left.” 

Brian’s look does not waver as Draco speaks.  He is either completely unfazed or completely sympathetic, it is hard to tell at first.  He takes another sip of his beer and puts his plate in the sink. 

“Sounds quite dramatic.” 

“Very much so, when you’re the one living it.” 

“What’s your last name?”   

“Malfoy,”  Draco says, lifting his chin slightly higher.  It is an automatic action.  He is stunned, however, when the sound of his name does not invoke a flinch or a sneer from the hearer.   

“I don’t recognize it from the news.  So the scandal obviously wasn’t that huge.” 

“Where I came from it  _was_  the news.” 

“Draco Malfoy.  A French name?” 

“Originally, yes.” 

“Bad faith.” 

“Tu parle francais?”  Draco says with perfect diction and pronunciation. 

“Just what I remember from high school.”  He smiles 

“What’s yours?”  

Brian hesitates at Draco's question, suddenly uncomfortable.  Last names are clearly not usually something his normal tricks get but Draco ceased being a normal trick a long time ago.  

“Fair is fair, Brian,”  Draco drawls. 

“Kinney," He says, his jaw working.  "And trust me, my name isn’t one to relish either.”  Draco questions him with a look. 

He sets his beer down.  “My father is a womanizing asshole who has never worked an honest day in his life.  The money he did make from his piddley union job, was spent on alcohol.  My mother is a fag hating Catholic who buries herself in her faith and her own fair share of booze to ignore the pain of her loveless marriage, thus neglecting her children who she never really wanted in the first place.  My sister is a mousy idiot, barely smart enough to graduate high school let alone get a good job, who has already popped out two kids with her deadbeat ex-husband and will undoubltely raise them to be just like their dear old dad.”    
  
He finishes with a flourish of his bottle, chugs down the beer, then with a slight leer in Draco's direction dictates.  “But they. Are not.  Me.  I got away from that farce that is the Kinney family and I took my name and I made it mean something. Success and power and wealth.  You can’t let your family drag you down, to let their ineptitude direct where your life goes.  You are your own man, Draco.  You’re not your father.” 

“If I had a knut for every time some has said that,”  Draco mumbles against the lip of his beer bottle, rolling his eyes and snorting softly at the same time. 

“A what?”  Brian asks and only then does Draco realize his slip.  He panics for a moment and swallows his beer slowly.   

“English slang for a penny.”  He hopes Brian will believe the lie and it seems he does because he clears away Draco's plate and starts to wash it quickly in the sink.  Draco hasn’t had a slip like that before but perhaps it was all this talk of home that brought it out.  Draco has, after all, talked about home more in the past few hours than in the entire year before now.   

 _Brian Kinney_ , he repeats the name as if to memorize it.  Such a humble name for such a remarkable man.  While Draco is blown away by his body and his touches, it his mind that has Draco truly hooked. 

Hands, still slightly damp from the sink, slide over Draco's shoulders.  "Come on, let's get some sleep."  Brian's thumbs knead into the tight muscles at the base of Draco's neck for a moment, then as he wanders off towards the bedroom he hears, "You can make the coffee in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4

Finally Draco sleeps. 

But not the deep, restful sleep that you can only receive in your own bed.  Instead Draco drifts into the tentative sleep of one in unfamiliar surroundings, easily awoken by a shift in Brian’s breathing, the inadvertent touch of his fingers on Draco's back as he rolls over.  These little reminders that he is not alone yet does not belong.

And regardless of how deep he slumbers or where he does it, the road his unconscious mind travels in sleep is always the same. 

He haunted by memories.  Moments.  Times when the world seemed to hang upon his thin shoulders. Where he wondered how he had possibly ended up with this as his life.   

Draco's mind takes him back.  Back to the war.  Back to the days when the Manor ceased to be little more then Voldemort’s war room.   

_The image of his mother’s bleak face, wrought with unshed tears and unspoken dread.  The grim truth in his father’s elegant features.  Father knew, even then, that he would not survive.  Either the war would take him or its aftermath would ruin him, he did not know which.  But one way or another, he knew his time was up._

_Draco sees the Dark Lord asking for his loyalty.  His gaunt cheeks made hollow by the candlelight of his parent's ballroom.  There had been no pride in that moment. Only fear and duty.  Deranged Aunt Bellatrix and her suggestive looks directed towards that thing that once was a man.  The fearful shouts from the dungeon that after several days lessened to pitiful moans.  And Death Eaters and the smell of blood and Snape’s knowing eyes and Potter._  

_Potter and his blasted sidekicks.  The golden trio.  Caught.  Brought to Draco.  For him to identify.  “Who is this, Draco?  Is this Potter?”  She shrieks, her nails digging into his arm.  He had felt like a small, frightened child.  “Tell me this is the boy!!”_

_Not Potter.  It can’t be Potter.  Please not Potter.  He can’t be caught because if he is…Not Potter.  Not him.   Don't let this be him.  Please.  Please not Harry._

“Hey!” 

Draco startles awake, his eyes fly open.   

 _The Manor.  No, not the manor._    _Pittsburgh.  Brian._   It takes him a moment to realize he is safe. 

Draco takes in a calming breath, willing his racing heart to be still.  It is only then that he feels Brian’s hand clasped around his bicep.  He blinks his eyes to clear the sleep from them.

“Bad dream?”  Brian asks, voice raspy. 

“Yeah.”   

Brian lies back down, eyeing Draco warily.  He pulls the blanket further up around his shoulders.  It has gotten cold in the night. 

“Who’s Harry?”  Brian asks.

Draco's eyes widen.  “What?” 

“You were mumbling his name in your sleep.  He some old flame?” 

Draco snorts at the preposterous idea.  “Try arch rival.” 

“Certainly sounded amorous to me.  ‘Please.  Harry.  Harry…’” He inflects his voice up higher and Draco prays that he does not actually sound that girly in his sleep.  It is only when he sees the grin on Brian's face that he realizes Brian had been teasing. Draco gives him a good-hearted smack on his chest with the back of his hand. 

Already, he feels calmer.

“To say that he and I never got along would be a gross understatement.  We were always trying to out do one another. What he lacked in brains he made up for in pure, dumb luck.  Completely rash and illogical, but never seemed to suffer for it.  He did give me this though, the bastard.”  Draco pushes the comforter down towards his navel.   

Brian lifts his hand to a small scar to the left of Draco's sternum.  It is faint, no bigger than a finger in length and width.  But the skin there is glassy smooth, tight and almost shiny against the pale white of his chest.  On some of Draco's darkest nights, he would lie alone and wonder how hard it would be to reopen that scar, let the life flow out of him and simply let it all be done. 

“Jesus,”  Brian mumbles as his fingers linger over the mended skin.  “Must have been quite the rivalry if it ended with scars. How did he do it?” 

“He was an idiot, that’s how.”  Draco tries not to remember the searing pain, so all consuming he could not even scream. And the blood.   _There had been so much blood._  

“You leave him with any?”  Brian smirks.   

“Alas, no.”  Draco says, and adds to himself,  _He already had enough of those_. 

“How did I miss this before?  Scars are sexy.” 

“Well, you haven’t had me on my back much,”  Draco quips.  Brian's face melts into you a long, droll look. 

“But now that you are… I suppose I should take full advantage.”   

“I suppose you should,”  Draco says in bored tones, grinning all the while.  Draco laughs gently when Brian dips his head and lets his tongue flick a nipple.   

His mood changes quickly from playful to powerful.  Brian continues lower, stopping to swirl his tongue in his navel, evoking a sound from Draco that is half guttural groan and half giddy laugh.  Brian runs his hands up Draco's side, over his chest.  He breathes deeply, letting his rib cage expand under his touch. 

Reaching Draco's groin, Brian mouths his cock through the thin fabric of the pajama pants.  It is more heat than sensation, but Draco shudders all the same.  This mere hint of what his mouth will do is enough to send his mind reeling. 

Even in their short time together, Draco has learned that sex is never simple with Brian.  There is always a game. The dolling out of some wicked punishment for an offense he never committed.  Brian knows Draco will take whatever torture he devises, because in the end Draco is the one rewarded. 

The penalty now is the glacially slow removal of Draco's pants.  As Brian's mouth continues its work through the deadening cloth, he brings his hands up to peel said cloth away, one painful inch at a time.  Exposing first one sharp hipbone, then the other.   

Finally after what feels like millennia, Draco digs his feet into the mattress and arches up his hips as Brian slides the fabric away.  He takes in a breath, letting his lungs fill all the way up then lets it out slowly, feeling as though he has just been released from some sort of endless imprisonment.  Brian strokes him a few times, finally skin to skin.  He kisses the blond curls over Draco's pubic bone, letting the heat of his breath fall over his balls. 

Draco has never felt any insecurity about his cock.  In fact Draco is quite proud of it.  It is not extremely long or overly thick, but it is symmetrical and perfectly straight, with no throbbing veins to take away from its smoothness.  But somehow the way Brian holds it, the time he takes, makes Draco feel like it is the most perfect thing he has ever seen. 

Draco whimpers as Brian's tongue moves languidly up the underside, swirling brilliantly at the tip.  He kisses the round, swollen head and lets his tongue flit against the slit. 

It is not long before Draco is far, far-gone, buried somewhere in the back of Brian's throat.  The sound of expert sucking fills his ears and all he can see behind his eyelids is stars.   

Draco knows he could fight off the orgasm that is building inside.  He could declare war against it, push it further down so that when he does climax, it does not simply wash over him, but explodes around him.  But he does not want to fight it.  Not tonight in this warm bed with Brian’s mouth around him.  Brian's fingers tangle with Draco's and he gives Draco's fingers a gentle squeeze, giving him permission to let himself go. 

So, like the undercurrent of the ocean, he lets the waves of pleasure wash over him, pulling him further and further out - until he simply slips away. 

Draco comes with a slowly expelled breath. A contented sigh.  A gentle release. 

Brian hums a satisfied sound around his cock, as his spit and Draco's cum mingle in his mouth.  He swallows it all as he continues to milk the last of it out from the tip of his cock with a few calm strokes. 

Draco blinks up at the ceiling as Brian lies back down next to him.  It is still the middle of the night and there is still sleep to be had.   

Brian settles his head against his pillow and lets his eyes drift closed.  “You’re quite the enigma, Draco Malfoy.  Sadistic tattoo, strange scar.  Member of the upper crust yet working at a Starbucks.  Your shoes are completely torn up but the coat you wear is Armani, if I’m not mistaken,”  He says as he drapes one arm over Draco's chest.  Draco automatically puts his arm on top of it and rubs it with the palm of his hand.  It is an affectionate pose, giving the illusion of feelings that are not there. 

 “I’ll figure you out yet,”  Brian mumbles as sleep overwhelms him. 

Draco knows this cannot happen.  He can never know who and what Draco truly is.    
  
But as Draco closes his eyes, lulled into sleep once more by Brian's steady breathing, there is a part of him that hopes he might.

*

 

The morning sunlight is near blinding when Draco next open his eyes.  It filters through the giant windows, illuminating, for the first time, the place where he spent the night.  He is alone in Brian’s bed, naked and he can’t help the smile that crosses his lips as he stretches the sleep from his limbs.   

With three hollow thuds, Brian walks up the few steps into the bedroom, a cup of coffee in each hand. 

“I thought I was supposed to make the coffee,”  Draco says, running his fingers roughly through his mussed hair.   

“You were sleeping.”

“You could have woken me.”   

He shakes his head.  “You needed to sleep. Nightmares are draining.  As are impromptu middle of the night blow jobs.” He sits on the edge of the bed and hands Draco a steaming cup.  He takes a sip.   _Not bad.  Tea would be better, but it'll do._  

“You should look outside.” 

Making the way to the window, Draco can barely believe all the white he sees.  Layers and mounds of white fluffy flakes cover every inch of the world outside.  The ice blue sky is a bitter one, providing no warmth to those few brave or unlucky souls who venture into the city tundra.   

“Wow,”  Draco says simply.  He feels, rather than sees Brian come to stand next to him, sipping his coffee.   

“The city is shut down.  Nearly four feet of snow in twenty-four hours.  The road crews were out all night but couldn’t keep up with it. Roads are closed all over the city.  Most businesses are shut down and all the schools, obviously.  I, ah, called your Starbucks.  It’s closed too, so you don’t have to worry about working…if you had to.”  He rubs the nape of his neck with a hand and Draco thinks he almost sees him blush.   

“So we’re stuck," Draco says eventually.  

“Looks like it.” 

Draco heaves an overly dramatic sigh.  “Fan-fucking-tastic.” 

An amused grin grows slowly over Brian's lips, his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.  “There some place else you’d rather be?” 

“I can think of one or two places.”   

“Oh come on,” Brian says with playful offence.  “What better way to spend a snowy day than in a place readily supplied with vast amounts of alcohol, a good a mount of weed and unlimited, hot sex?”  He wraps his arms around Draco from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder.  Draco cannot help but feel his cock stir slightly at the memories of the night before in this position, in front of this window.

“Well, when you put it that way…”  Brian kisses him quickly, right where his neck slopes out to become his shoulder. 

“Come on.  Shower,”  He orders.  “I’m not spending the day with a dirty boy.” 

He turns on the water and lets steam fill up the room.  They joke about nothing in particular, both feeling light and carefree.  It feels good to laugh.  Draco reminds himself to enjoy it.  To remember how it feels to smile again, because he knows that it will end.  

This time with Brian is a fluke.  A fortuitous accident.  If it had been any normal night Draco would be long gone by now, sent on his way after his purpose had been served.  Draco knows this is an ending and not a beginning, so he cherishes the denouement.   

Brian pulls him into the massive, glass-enclosed shower.  The water pressure is strong and Draco lavishes himself under the spray.  Brian reaches for a bar of soap and begins to lather it over his back, letting his slick hands cover every last inch of Draco's body.   

It comes as a surprise though, to feel kisses being planted where his hands once were.  Following the downward path of the water over Draco's body,  his tongue licks over every bump of Draco's spine, down further over the crack of his ass.  His eyes fly open at the unexpected touch but with some encouragement from Brian, he widens his stance nonetheless.  

This is a first for Draco.  No one has ever touched him this way and initially, as Brian parts his arse cheeks, he is uncertain how to feel about it.  Hard fingers and cock are one thing to feel.  But the soft sweep of Brian's tongue is like nothing he could have ever imagined.  When his tongue swirls around Draco's entrance, he gasps. Unprepared for the rush of heat he feels shoot through him.  Any uncertainty of whether he'd like this or not, is suddenly whisked down the drain.  

Before Draco even knows it, he is panting for air, nearly driven over the edge by his expert tongue.  Draco feels filthy for enjoying it so much, but when Brian reaches around and pulls on his cock, it only takes a few strokes for Draco to shoot his seed all over the glass in front of him. 

Brian stands from his place on the floor, rinsing again under the warm spray.  Draco turns slowly to see him smirking in self-satisfaction. 

"Had to make sure you were clean everywhere,”  Brian says wickedly while Draco is still too shocked for words.

Draco's hands are in his hair, kneading his scalp a few minutes later, when Brian says, "You want to go home, don't you?".    
  
He knows Brian isn’t talking about his shit hole apartment.   

“I’ve thought about it.” 

Brian turns to rinse. 

“You miss it?"  

Draco smiles sadly.  “Everyday.”   _The crack of apparition.  The bubble of a potion set to boil.  The whisk of  robes around my ankles.  Pumpkin juice and butterbeer.  Warming charms and owl post.  The weight of a snitch or the fragile balance of my wand._

“Then go back.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I told you, things are...uncertain” 

“They were when you left.  How long ago was that?” 

“Year and a half, give or take.” 

“You think people are still upset about daddy’s little friends after nearly two years?” 

“People have long memories.” 

“Well fuck them,”  He says brashly, turning off the water for further emphasis.  “You don’t owe anyone anything except yourself. You have to do what makes you happy.” 

“Is that how it is with you? Take what you want from the world and fuck all else?” 

“Pretty much.”   

Draco looks at him, then he shakes his head sadly, wrapping a towel around his waist.  “That’s a very lonely way to live, Brian.” 

“It’s suited me so far.  I have close friends who understand me.  A job in which I excel.  A beautiful space to call home and more sex than any gay man should ever be allowed to have.  Anyone who has a problem with how I live can suck my dick.  In an entirely proverbial sense, of course.”   

He says all this with a wry look and the bold confidence one would expect from a man like him.  But Draco see the darkness in his eyes that suggests hidden uncertainties.  For some reason, Draco is compelled to take that darkness away.  To see his eyes glow again.  Because it is the brazen, self-assured Brian that inspires him the most. 

Draco drags him towards the bedroom.  “Speaking of ‘more sex’, I believe you are down two orgasms to me in the running tally and I would hate for you to get too far behind.” 

Brian's eyes brighten, just like he had hoped.  “Oh, are we keeping count now?”  
  
"Don't know about you, but I am."  Draco purses his lips together and throws him down on the bed, straddling his hips. 

Draco might not be ready to saunter down the streets of Diagon Alley or try and break through the wrought iron gates around Brian's soul, but he is ready to even the score.    
  
And for now that is progress enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter, you have two choices: 
> 
> To read the alternate ending, simply continue reading Nothing, as it Should Be all the way to the end. In this ending, Draco ends up Harry and Brian meets Justin, with the show then progressing as usual.
> 
> To continue in this universe, where Brian never meets Justin and Harry doesn't factor into the picture (until much later) and Brian and Draco are the OTP, please switch now to And So it Begins, also found in the Queer as Magic Verse.
> 
> I am quite fond of both options, so I suggest both. :)

****

It is a lazy day and Draco luxuriates in its slow passage. 

Draco and Brian linger in bed after another well given blowjob on Draco's part.  His hair is still damp from the shower when they finally drag themselves to the kitchen for a light lunch.   

Draco then find himself under a soft blanket, feet propped up on Brian’s coffee table to watch some muggle movie.  It is in black and white and he claims it is one of his favorites.  At first Draco tries to follow along, but when Brian’s fingers find his hair the sense of comfort overwhelms him.  He vacillates between sleep and wakefulness.  Vaguely aware of his surroundings  _\- "I could have been a contender, Charlie" -_ yet lost somewhere in his own subconscious. 

Brian’s arm is still around his shoulder when he wakes up. His head resting on top of Draco's, having drifted off himself. 

At some point Brian brings out an unopened bottle of Vodka and two shot glasses, giving Draco a questioning look.  Draco looks at him oddly and he counters by saying “What the hell else do we have to do?”  

Draco shrugs and promptly sits down at the kitchen table to get piss-ass drunk. 

Draco has a strong tolerance for alcohol.  He's young and he's a pureblood, both of which help.  But he had severely under estimated the power of an Irish liver.  So after nearly the whole bottle it had degenerated to this: 

“Truth or dare?”  Brian smirks. 

“Truth.” 

“When did you lose your virginity?” 

“16, Pansy Parkinson.”  The wards and anti-trespassing spells up to the girls dormitory had been a bitch to break.   

“A girl?”  He asks, revolted.  “When did you come out then?” 

“I’m not gay.” 

“Draco, I happen to know from first hand experience just how much you like having someone’s dick up your ass.  That fact doesn’t exactly make you straight.” 

“I didn’t say I was straight either.” 

He sighs heavily and rolls his eyes.  “Being bisexual just means you’re afraid to commit.” 

“Bullshit.  I like being open to anything.  To finding beauty in both sexes.” 

“You’re deranged.” 

“I’m versatile.”   

He laughs, a silly snicker, and pours another round.   

“Ok, your turn.”   

“Truth or dare,” Draco plays along. 

“Hmmm…you’ve already gotten my best little dick stories, as well as my most embarrassing drunk story – which I still can’t believe I told you - so I’m going to have to say…dare.” 

An idea pops into Draco's head.  One that if he were sober he'd dismiss as completely ridiculous.  But since that bottle of vodka is nearly gone, he takes a risk.  He leans forward over the table, his heart pounding and dick hardening at the thought.   

“Let me fuck you.” 

Draco's eyes collide with Brian’s.  For a moment he feels like their roles are reversed.  That he is the hunter and Brian is the hunted.  Draco watches as Brian's brain works through the possibilities.  And for a moment it looks as though he drunk enough that he might actually say yes. 

But then he leans back into his chair and crosses his arms, a smug grin forming on his face.    

“First off, absolutely not.  And second, how many guys have you even been with to know what you’re doing?” 

“Enough to know that I never leave them disappointed.  God, you tops are so prickly.”  Draco stands, moving around to where Brian sits.  He puts his hand out towards him.  “Fine, come fuck me instead.” 

“That’s your dare?”

“I’m drunk and there is no more vodka and all I really want is to get in bed with you so excuse me for being unoriginal.” 

Brian laughs.  A brilliant, joyful smile that overtakes his whole face.  This is not one of his enigmatic smirks or grins.  This one is genuine.  Happy and relaxed, much like he has been the whole day.  He takes Draco's hand but instead of standing, up pulls Draco into his lap.  His eyes soften.   

“I like you,”  He says, grinning.  The words slither out, slipping past lips loose with drink.  Draco's stomach flutters.   

Draco's not the kind of person people like.  He is brash and difficult and proud.  He knows this.  People follow him and admire him.  They respect him.  But they do not  _like_  him.  Certainly some relationships went further, into what he would consider true friendship, but those were the exception, not the rule.     

“You do?”  Draco asks and you are almost alarmed at how hopeful he sounds. 

One thumb runs over the skin at the back of Draco's neck.  Brian rolls his lips into his mouth.  “Yeah, I do.”   

He says it as if it surprises him too.   

Their eyes hold.  But not with the penetrating, soul bearing stares from the night before.  But instead with a look full of amusement.  Of amazement.  And a good portion of anxiety.  Because after all, Brian is not the kind of person who likes people, and yet here they are. 

Brian leans forward and kisses him.  Moving slowly, between soft pecks and lingering kisses.  He lets his tongue sweep over the opening of Draco's lips, parting them gently before brushing his tongue with his.  There is no other intention to theses kisses other than to simply enjoy their sensation.  They feel important.  They feel  _amazing_. 

He leads Draco, by one hand, to the bedroom and lays him down on the bed.  He crawls up to rest his body on top of Draco's, fitting so perfectly between his thighs. His hips roll slowly against Draco's in slow patient thrusts.  Or perhaps he is just too drunk to move quickly.  But either way Draco enjoys every touch, every glimpse of flesh as Draco peals his clothes away. 

When Brian reaches for a condom, Draco begins to roll onto his stomach in preparation but Brian puts a hand on his hip and shakes his head.  “Stay where you are.  I want to watch you."

Draco nods and feels that faint fluttering again.  Draco takes the condom and puts it on him himself, eager for any excuse to touch him.  He prepares Draco, just as slowly and carefully as he had kissed him.  His fingers do not burn so much anymore. They feel less like an intrusion and more like a welcome addition to his body.  Brian smiles softly at Draco's reaction, pleased that he can make him feel so good.   

He puts a pillow under Draco's hips and brings one of his legs up over his shoulder.  His muscles ripple as he moves and Draco trails his fingers over them, admiring the tight physique wrapped in the golden package of his skin.  His skin is so different from Draco's.  Warm, almost glowing with heat, while Draco's seems to glisten in its paleness.  The contrast is beautiful.   

Brian aligns himself at his slick hole and in the moment before he glides inside, he almost looks vulnerable.  He bites his lip, hard.  Concentrating.  Feeling that he too might break at any moment.   

He presses forward slowly, continuing the lazy pace of the day.  Once he is all the way inside, he pushes Draco's leg back towards the bed so he can kiss him.  Draco lifts his ass higher into the air as he does, angling himself so Brian's cock hits him in just the right spot.   

It is all so exquisite.  His tongue toying with Draco's, slippery and thick in his mouth.  His dick moving seamlessly inside him, sliding easily with the lube.  Draco's cock is trapped between their slick bodies.  His palms are splayed across Brian's back, pulling him ever closer. 

Brian keeps his slow and even speed, seeming to have no intention of ever going faster.  Even so, Draco feels his orgasm building to breathtaking extremes.  It moves in from far away.  A wave of electricity about to crest over a hill.  Blinding light along the horizon. 

“Brian…”  He whines, begging for the other man to push him over the edge.  He lifts his head away from where he had been panting into the crook of Draco's neck.   

He grins, a puff of air escaping his lips.  “Not yet.” 

As a boy, Draco's father had taught him an important lesson.   _Enjoy whom you want, as much as you want, Draco.  But in the end, it is a woman with whom you will spend your life, build a family and carry on the name._ It seemed like a fair and logical statement at the time.  He never thought he could love a man anyway and still don’t, even now.  Men are for fucking, for enjoying, but not for loving.  One sleeps with men to satisfy those base, animalistic needs of lust and want.

But now Draco does not know how he could ever go back to being with a woman.  Her soft curves and delicate body could never make him feel what a man does.  What Brian does.  Insane with need.  Over come by his power and potency.       

“Please, Brian,”  Draco begs again, not ashamed at how hopeless his voice sounds.   

“You need it?” He whispers, ever the gamesman.  “You need to come?” 

“Yes...please.”  Those words sound more like sobs than anything else and finally, Brian relents.  He reaches between their bodies to grab Draco's cock and begins stroking.  His hips pound at an almost violent rate.  Every muscle in Draco's body contracts, burning with expectation.  His face contorts.  His balls constrict.  His toes curl.  His ass clenches. He does not know how much more he can take until... 

“God… Draco!” 

The world explodes.  They are no longer substance or matter, but pure light. Draco's body is obliterated in the most wonderful sense of the word.  Amorphous and liquid.  Shattered.  Deconstructed.

Draco is unable to process anything.  To think.  Too many endorphins and too much alcohol.   The only thing that reminds him that he is, in fact, still in human form is the weight of Brian on top of him.  Brian's heart pounds wildly inside his chest, beating so strongly that it is hard to tell which heartbeat is Draco's and which one is Brian's.   

He cannot resist the exhaustion that creeps into his limbs.  He barely has time to process Brian rolling onto his back, pulling Draco against him and into his arms, before sleep steals him away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember:  
> Nothing, as it Should Be: Alternate ending, DM/HP, JT/BK endgame
> 
> And so it Begins: Brian/Draco endgame


End file.
